Days of Our Lives
by Word Doc
Summary: Ingrid has been acting out of sorts. Fillmore decides to put his detective skills to use, but what he finds might be more than he can handle.


**Of Courses and Cases**

_~The beginning is the most important part of the work~  
><em>_Plato _

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><p>"Therefore, due to the recent District-wide computer hack, Spring Break has been officially <strong>canceled<strong>."

A wave of groans and shouts of outrage thundered from the audience of middle schoolers who had gathered in the auditorium on this Fateful Friday. Some kids had gone into shock and fainted. Others were crying in a fetal position on the stained marble floors. Nearby, the renowned X Safety Patrollers had their hands full in preventing the angrier kids from jumping up onto the stage. Various shouts of "Unfair!", "Life is ending as we know it!", and "You'll be hearing from my lawyer!" thundered from the crowd.

Principal Dawn S. Folsom pushed her glasses up her nose and cleared her throat.

The uproar abruptly hushed.

"Do you hear that Marcus Stevens?" She asked sweetly with a professionally fake smile. "_That_ is the sound of hundreds of disappointed students. If you listen closely, you can hear it mirror the sound of the engines on my plane as it leaves for the Bahamas...without me."

Her tone dropped dangerously, along with her smile. "When I get my well-manicured hands on you, you little punk, I will personally shove my three-inch heel up your narrow—"

"**And** that concludes this announcement." Raycliffe hurriedly ended the assembly before Folsom could complete her threat. "Please return to your classes."

There was a general shift of movement as students trudged back to their activities. A few stayed behind and vented, shouting obscene comments at Marcus whose left ear was currently being held captive by the Principal's 'well-manicured' hand. Once the entire room was cleared, the Safety Patrol released a collective sigh of relief and reported to Folsom who was peering at the culprit with disgust.

"Raycliffe!" She snapped. "I want this poor excuse for a student expelled to the tenth degree! I want him kicked to a Guatemala reform school faster than I can say the country's name!"

"I'm afraid we can't do that." The Vice-principal stated, flipping through his clipboard.

"And why not?"

"Because Stevens is the School Board of Director's only son." Raycliffe responded pointedly.

Folsom paused, narrowing her eyes at the squirming boy. Marcus looked decidedly uncomfortable and in pain.

"He looks nothing like Bert." She announced.

"Correct. He takes after his mother."

"Ah. Very well, then." Folsom nodded before releasing Marcus and shoving him onto Anza who restrained the sixth-grader's hands behind his back.

"He is to be suspended from now until the end of the school year." She amended. "Take him to my office and tie him to a chair. I will personally be making the phone call home this time. And if his hands are anywhere _near_ operating systems or memory chips, _your_ career will be the one that is short-circuited, Joseph."

The bodyguard nodded in understanding and took the sullen hacker away. Folsom turned to the remaining Safety Patrol with a look of boredom."I suppose you expect me to thank you for finding the perpetrator behind the hacking."

Her tone was pacifying but the Patrollers tensed—a conditioned response after years of experience. The principal's short temper and sharp mouth were perhaps even more renowned than X Middle School's top-notch Safety Patrol. Taking the lead for his team, Vallejo shook his head, "No ma'am, we're just doing our jobs."

"Oh, good." She examined her nails indifferently. "Because I wasn't going to. Why didn't you stop him from doing it, is what I wanted to ask."

"We never received any leads." Tehama explained. "We couldn't have known he did it until he did. It was a spontaneous crime."

"And I suppose the numerous malfunctions the A/V geeks were having with their computers did nothing to raise your suspicions?" Neatly plucked eyebrows drew together in displeasure.

The Safety Patrol members shared an uncertain look with each other before Ingrid spoke up.

"I checked it," The girl in black confirmed. "It was clean."

Folsom responded with a ladylike snort. "Of course it was clean. If you were playing Minesweeper, that is." She said with a tone patronizing enough to be considered condescending. "Did you ever think to look for a bug? Or were you simply 'cleaning'?"

The girl sighed, "I was only doing a routine check-up."

Folsom huffed. "Precisely! How can I hope to keep the school in order if my best Safety Patrollers can't even stop a crime being committed right before their eyes?"

Fillmore took a step forward—blocking Ingrid from view. "What's done is done." He stated firmly, looking Principal Folsom in the eye. "We did our best. Ingrid was eventually able to trace the connection back to Marcus before he was able to completely escape from the school mainframe. We caught Stevens and brought him down. All's well that ends well, right?"

"Perhaps. But in case you were wondering, this did not end well, Officer Cornelius Fillmore." Folsom warned. "My trip to the Bahamas is postponed until further notice and that means so is everyone else's vacations. Especially the Safety Patrol's. I want around the clock surveillance this upcoming week and any offenders are to be taken into custody without question. I don't want any of my summer to be _bugged_ with also. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal." The officer replied stiffly.

"Good." Folsom appeared satisfied and slid into her miniature limo next to the vice Principal. "Cynthia! Call my traveling agent! And someone get me a Double-Choco-Cocoa Latte! With extra heavy-duty cream! _Now_!"

After she drove off, the Safety Patrol started heading back to HQ.

A year has passed since the newest recruit of the Safety Patrol joined the team and the school. Since then, the hallways of X Middle School saw peace and justice almost on a daily basis. The students were relieved and free to enjoy their activities without fear of theft or being ambushed by the Badminton Club after school. There was still the occasional flare of crime and underhanded schemes performed by the usual troublemakers of X, but it was nothing a quick undercover bust couldn't fix. And recently-turned Ninth-Grader Vallejo saw to that.

The Jr. Commissioner had received special permission from Folsom to remain with his team until the rest of the Patrol graduated from X Middle School. He kept his position as Jr. Commissioner and was given higher-level material to independently study rather than having to attend High School separately. As long as he passed his weekly chapter tests, he was free to boss around the Patrollers and regulate crime at X—much to his satisfaction and the satisfaction of his team. They would have missed him terribly. There was no doubt in their minds that he would have taken the HQ Cocoa Machine with him.

It was a fortunate thing that he stayed for the eighth grade was no walk in the park for the rest of the Patrollers. Between classes and crimes, it was serious business. And who better to dedicate to serious business than the three-year Commissioner? Horatio Vallejo kept his team in line and (for the most part) out of trouble. Unfortunately, this newest misdemeanor committed by Stevens has every officer treading thin ice around Folsom. Well, almost everyone.

"Aw man!" cried O'Farrell in despair as they walked through the hallways that were bustling with students. "I was going to Disneyland to see Pinocchio—on ice! Now I'll never get Jiminy Cricket's autograph for my authentic top Cricket Top Hat."

Almost subconsciously, some of kids stepped to the side to allow the group of friends and officers pass through the crowded walkway. A couple students nodded a greeting to the Fillmore and Ingrid—having been helped by the duo before. One kid high-fived Danny as he passed by and a few waved at Tehama.

"Relax O'Farrell," The pink-haired forensic snickered after bidding her friend goodbye, "You'll be able to see it next year."

"But we had front row seats! I had to camp outside the ticket booth for three days to get those babies!"

"You're not alone, Danny. Other kids had to cancel their plans too." Fillmore reminded.

"You're telling me!" The Jr. Commissioner groaned, "I was going fishing with my Papi in Lake Erie. Those Sturgeons don't catch themselves you know."

"The family and I were going to visit Japan this year." Tehama added.

"What about you, Ingrid?" Fillmore asked, glancing over his shoulder at his partner who was trudging sluggishly behind him with her eyes fixed to the floor. When she didn't answer, he frowned and turned around completely.

"Ingrid?"

Her head suddenly snapped up and she blinked a couple times to see the rest of the Safety Patrol staring at her. A rare flush marked her face and she shook her head to clear it. "Sorry?"

"Did you have any plans over spring break?" Fillmore asked slowly and carefully, his brow creased in concern.

Ingrid's emerald eyes hazed over. "Not really." She responded distractedly.

Fillmore wasn't buying it. "Are you still thinking about what Folsom said?" He asked suddenly.

Ingrid blinked again, "What?"

"It wasn't your fault Ingrid." Tehama assured her confused friend.

"Huh?"

"Yeah, you were awesome! How do you know that much about computers anyway?" O'Farrell crowed.

"I, er."

"Don't worry about it, Third." Vallejo commented. "Folsom might be tough, but she's fair. She won't blame you for any of it."

"Um, right."

"Ingrid."

She turned tiredly to her partner and best friend who was looking at her with the usual self-assured smile that always bolstered her confidence whenever she saw it. As she continued to stare blankly at him, he placed a warm hand on her shoulder. His touch electrified and made her tense up unconsciously. Fillmore didn't seem to notice.

"You did a good job." He said. "We wouldn't have caught Stevens without your help. Don't let Folsom get to you. Got me?"

His compliments, rare as they were, always made her blush in embarrassment. This time was no different. "Sure. Uh, thanks Fillmore." She replied unsteadily, more focused on trying to bring down the flush on her face as he continued to touch her. It was a strange feeling: she half wanted to shy away from the foreign contact but she also half wanted to get closer to him. Before she could even begin to make a decision, he removed his hand and resumed walking but at a slower pace. She in turn sped up to take her place by his side, shaking her head to clear away stray thoughts.

She also tried not to wonder why her shoulder felt oddly cold for the rest of the walk.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

When they reached HQ, Anza was waiting for them with hands stuffed in his pockets.

"What took you so long?" He questioned.

"Folsom wanted a word." Fillmore answered. Anza scoffed but said nothing. "Stevens give you any trouble?"

The Asian shook his head. "Nah, the kid was as skitty as a kitty. His father wanted to add an extra week of summer so he could extend the summer schooling but the Board wouldn't let him. Turns out, Marcus wasn't exactly the apple of his father's eye, if you catch my drift. He wanted to prove himself."

"So he took it into his own hands and hacked the district mainframe to change the dates." Vallejo finished with a heavy sigh.

Anza nodded, "Kid ain't sorry about it either. He was pretty proud of himself."

"They always are," the Jr. Commissioner muttered irritably before speaking up. "Alright people, let's get back to work! There's still two hours left of school and I want to take it easy next week so pick up the slack."

"Doubt that's going to happen," Tehama grouched as she sat in her desk. "Spring Break is when kids have saved up their biggest pranks. No way are they going to change their plans just because school's still in session."

"Not unless I outprank them all!" O'Farrell declared gleefully."Oh man, once they see my pranks, none of them would dare to try any for themselves! They'll be in shock at my amazing talent because I am the Pranking! Get it? Prank King? Pranking? Am I reaching anybody?"

Tehama and Anza both rolled their eyes at Danny's antics.

"Don't cause any trouble O'Farrell or you'll be pranking your way to Folsom's office!" came Vallejo's voice from inside his office.

The entire Patrol laughed at their teammate's misfortune.

Fillmore chuckled as Danny slouched at his desk. He reached his own desk in the very back of the room and sat down. "Come on Ingrid, let's finish up those last few case reports before we jet."

He was answered with silence. Turning, he tilted his head at his partner in consideration. "Ingrid?" he asked again, confused. She was sitting at her desk beside his as usual but was staring blankly at her phone with a thoughtful, almost conflicted look on her face. She didn't appear to hear him when he called to her again in a louder voice and bit her lower lip instead. Ever so slowly, she reached for the phone as if in a trance. Fillmore watched with interest as she picked it up and placed it against her ear. Her fingers dialed on their own accord—she was still staring at her desk, her eyes unseeing.

Finally, she spoke.

But it wasn't to him.

"'Elle? Where's Dad?" Her voice was hushed and Fillmore had to strain to hear.

A pause.

"Oh. No, it's nothing. I just wanted to let you know that Spring Break was canceled. Nothing serious, someone hacked the district and changed the dates. Extra week for summer. No big."

Another pause.

"I'm fine."

Silence.

"I'm _fine_." She said with a bit more force. Fillmore raised a brow but she didn't pay him any notice at all.

"I'll see you soon. Late." She hung up shortly after without waiting for a reply and resumed staring at her desk with a small frown on otherwise smooth features.

He tried again, "That Ariella?"

This time she jumped an inch from her seat and whipped to face him with wide green eyes . "Fillmore! I didn't see you there."

He raised both brows, "This is my desk, Ingrid. I pretty much live here."

She looked sheepish. It was an odd sight on the normally self-composed girl. "Of course. Right, of course you are. I mean, it is. I mean…of course."

Fillmore had just about had it.

He stood up and walked over to her desk, arms crossed with a face that meant business. She had seen him pull it on many of the perps they had caught over the months and she unceremoniously dubbed it as his 'Interrogation Face': it was carefully blank but at the same time it exerted a sense of foreboding and authority. It seemed strangely out of place now that she was on the receiving end, but she could tell he had toned down the effect since it was, after all, his own partner he was questioning.

She stared back into the opaque lenses that blocked his eyes from view.

"Why don't you tell me what's going on, Ingrid." He stated simply.

She appeared puzzled, "Nothing's 'going on'. I'm just…upset that there's no Spring Break. I was looking forward to spending time with my family. What about you, Fillmore? Were you doing anything?"

His frown deepened at her immediate denial and he uncrossed his arms. In a second, his calculating expression fell dead and was quickly replaced with what she dubbed his 'I'm-Trying-Not-to-Pry-but-You're-Worrying-Me Face'. She watched his lips tighten as he decided the best way to answer her.

"Girl, don't change the subject. We're friends, aren't we Ingrid?"

"Of course." She replied automatically.

He cracked a smile, "So you know you can tell me if something—anything—is bothering you, right?"

Ingrid returned his smile. "Of course." She said again. Fillmore observed her eyes and found them clear and alert like usual—gleaming with her unique brand of humor. It seemed that whatever was haunting her before had receded. _For the moment anyway,_ he thought. Caught up in his thoughts, Fillmore glanced up suddenly when Ingrid cleared her throat. She was watching his face with a raised brow.

"And you know you can tell me something—anything—that is bothering _you_, right?" She shot back after reading his emotions in the way only she can.

He smirked. "Of course."

She held out a fist and he knocked his own against it, feeling the slight brush of her knuckles against the back of his hand. The display of normality calmed him somewhat and he relaxed unintentionally.

Ingrid leaned back casually in her chair and observed him. "So seriously, doing anything with the folks?"

"Was." He shrugged, returning to his desk and opening up a file on his computer. "We were going to start and end the week at Papa Cracky's All-You-Can-Eat Crawfish and Crayfish buffet."

"Anything in-between?" She seemed amused.

"Maybe an occasional fishing trip or two. We're also having dinner at Gran's every Monday, Wednesday, and Sunday."

"Mustard greens?" She grinned, already knowing the answer.

"_Of course_." He mimicked her. "Mom was hoping you would drop by. It's been a while since you last visited."

"It has, hasn't it?" Ingrid mused. She opened a word document and began typing up the case report they had recently completed. "Alright, why not. I think my stomach's ready to handle another one of your batches of mean greens."

He raised brow. "'Scuse me, little lady? Last I recall, you were the one going up for seconds." He accused jokingly.

She shrugged without looking away from the screen, "They weren't very filling." She commented innocently. Fillmore looked appalled.

"Oh, it's on now, Third. You. Me. This Sunday at Granny Fillmore's. And bring your bib, baby."

"For mustard greens?" She turned to him this time with a look of disbelief.

"For baby-back ribs."

Ingrid burst out laughing—startling a few other officers. This was how he always pictured her in his mind—how she should be: happy and without a care in the world. Sure, she was still the cool-headed, sarcastic girl he had first met in the seventh grade, but he was the only one who's ever seen her childish and playful side when they hung out on the weekends or during stake-outs. Sometimes he wished she would show it more.

But most times, he just liked to keep it to himself.

"It's a date then." She smiled coyly and he momentarily forgot how to respond.

Finally recovering, he replied, "See you at six?"

She smirked. "_Of course_."

OF COURSES AND CASES FIN

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><p><strong>Word from the Writer: <strong>'Ello there Fans of Fiction, I be your host and writer for the next couple of months. Welcome, weird and strange ones, and normal and extra-ordinary others, to DOL: A Fillmore! Novella. And before I completely forget (again), here's your main entertainment:

**Disclaimer: **N-O-T-H-I-N-G, what does that spell? That's right, it spells exactly how much of the Fillmore enterprise I own. All belongs to Gimple and co. Enjoy your characters, Gimple. I know I do.

If you've read SCP and I somehow captured your attention enough for you to read this story, I applaud you (and myself) for the feat. I'm kidding kiddies, I love your (avatar) faces. Make sure you let me know down below that you've stopped by and I'll wave at you. I have lovely waves, promise.

For those who are new: The review button is your friend. We like our friends. And we like clicking on them. Oh yes we do.

Peace.

-Dev


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